


Camp Tramp

by Prehensilizing



Series: Camp Tramp [1]
Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, David is 30, Dom/sub, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, First Kiss, Homelessness, Hurt/Comfort, Light Bondage, M/M, Max is 16, Maxvid - Freeform, Minor Character Death, Older Max (Camp Camp), Rough Sex, Smut, Top!Max, You're Welcome, bottom!David, chapter 5 is the smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2019-10-27 16:06:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17769944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prehensilizing/pseuds/Prehensilizing
Summary: It's raining. Max just wants to get off the street for a night or two. His old camp counselor might be able to help... right?(C/W homelessness)





	1. Chapter 1

           

* * *

 

             “...Max?”

            “The _fuck_ happened to you?”

            Max gaped at the skeleton in the doorframe. David stared back, gaunt, hollow-eyed and thin. In the rain, backlit by the dim light of the entryway, his skin looked pale. Even his fiery red hair was dull.

            “Hello, Max.” David gave a tired smile, underscored by dark circles. He didn’t seem surprised to see Max on his doorstep, even after so many years.

            This wasn’t the plan.

            The _plan_ had been to march up to David’s house, zap him with his laser doe eyes – no one could resist Max’s doe eyes, even at sixteen – and crash on his couch for a few days. Max would do odd jobs, save his pennies, stay off the streets for a while. At least until David came to his senses and kicked him out. But when David opened the front door...

            ...well.

            “Max?” David asked softly. 

            He just looked so tired.

            “Jesus, David, did you get fucking cancer? Are you _eating?”_

            “It’s good to see you too, Max,” David breathed, a small smile playing across his dry lips.

            “Fuck.”

            Max ran a hand through his long, rain-soaked hair, slicking a few flyaway strands back into the ponytail at the nape of his neck. He suddenly felt guilty for his scheme, like he always used to feel when David gave him that tiny, forgiving smile. He felt ten again.

            “Are you going to come inside?” David asked, holding the door open a few extra inches. Rain spattered against the doorframe, scattering droplets into the entryway. Max sighed. His gaze flicked between the cold, wet sidewalk and the soft, inviting light of David’s home.

            “I guess.”

* * *

 

            Before he knew it, Max found himself seated at a small wooden kitchen table, cradling a warm cup of tea between his icy hands. He recognized the mug from years ago at camp – “#1 Counselor.” The ceramic was chipped and faded, with a grey ring at the waterline.

            “Lavender chamomile,” David explained. “Very calming.”

            “Uh... thanks.”

            Max’s fingers curled protectively around the steaming mug. He’d been cold for so long that he’d almost forgotten what it was like to be warm.

            “Can I toss your sweatshirt in the dryer for a few minutes? You’re soaked,” David remarked, voice laced with worry. “Pretty nasty storm out there.”

            “You have a dryer?” Max asked.

            “Of course.”

            “Um... yeah. That would be... nice.”

            David chuckled. That sad, hollow smile still haunted his eyes. Max frowned.

            “David, is everything-“

            “Sweatshirt,” David insisted, holding out his hand.

            “What, right now?”

            “Unless you want to hop in the dryer too.” David shrugged.

            “Oh. Okay.” Max stood, fumbling with the zipper. After a few seconds, he wrestled off the thin, wet garment. His shirt, also wet, clung to his ribs – worryingly visible against his skinny frame. David blinked, but accepted the sweatshirt without comment. Max crossed his arms over his chest.

            “You... want me to dry your shirt too?” David asked quietly.

            Max shrugged.

            “I have an extra you can borrow.”

            “The hell, David?”

            “Sorry?” David blinked owlishly.

            “Why the fuck are you being so _nice_?”

            “It’s just... common courtesy, Max.”

            “Is it?”

            They stared at one another.

            “You’re welcome to leave, if you want,” David offered slowly. “But I assume you came here for a reason. I always help my campers, Max. You know that.”

 

* * *

 

            Max wasn’t above using sex to get what he wanted.

            David was the gayest person he knew. And Max _was_ attractive. At sixteen, with his ponytail, coffee-cream skin, goatee, and high cheekbones, he was confident in his ability to woo the older man. He’d assumed, walking into David’s apartment, that David would undress him eventually.

            Just... not like this.

            Shirtless, Max shivered as David rooted through a dresser drawer. He kept his arms crossed tightly over his wiry frame, furiously rubbing his biceps to keep warm. Goosebumps prickled over his skin.

            “This should fit,” David said appraisingly, holding up an old blue shirt. “What do you think?”

            Max shrugged. The fabric was soft under his fingers, not threadbare like his other clothes. He didn’t let himself enjoy the sensation for long – this was only temporary, he reminded himself. David was a means to an end. He yanked the shirt over his head, marveling at how warm it was. How dry.

            “It looks nice on you,” David offered with a tired smile. “You should keep it.”

            “What- no! No way. I can’t just take your clothes-“

            “Max.” David reached forward, gently squeezing his arm.

            “I don’t need your fucking charity, David.”

            “Okay, Max.” David backed away, acquiescing easily. “Do you have a place to stay tonight?”

            It was terrifying how easily David could see through him.

            “Shit,” Max groaned. David’s expression didn’t waver toward pity, or anger, or anything else. He was just... David.

            “Looking for a yes or a no, bud.”

            “Shit! Fine. Whatever. I need a place to stay.”

            “Great!” David grinned, a glimmer of his old self shining through. “We’ll have a sleepover. Do you like scary movies? Well, golly, of course you do. Remember the time I caught you and Neil and Nikki at camp watching-“

            “My god. I don’t need the pity party. Okay?”

            “I know, Max,” David sighed.

            “And anyway what’s up with _you?_ You’re all...” Max gestured vaguely at David’s face, “fucked.”

            “Don’t worry about me, kiddo,” David replied evenly. Max frowned. If anything, he looked paler than before.

            “Whatever.” Max shrugged. David’s blue shirt moved comfortably against his skin, making him shudder. “Not like I care. And don’t call me kiddo.”

            “Okay, Max.”

           

* * *

 

            Max woke up on David’s sofa. Lines of muted grey light crossed his face, making him rub his eyes as he sat up. A soft blanket fell from his shoulders. On closer inspection, Max noticed Camp Campbell’s emblem embroidered onto the verdant green fabric.

             His bare feet touched the cool wooden floor, and he wrapped the blanket back around his shoulders, bracing himself against the chilly morning. Rain continued to fall, pattering against the glass windowpanes.

            “David?” Max asked the quiet house.

            He padded down the hallway. Faint snoring could be heard behind an open door to his left. He pushed it open.

            David seemed tense, even in sleep. Max crossed the room, listening to the older man’s fitful snoring. After a second, he lifted the green Camp Campbell blanket from his shoulders. He gently spread it over David’s body.

            David sighed, visibly relaxing under the weight of his favorite blanket.

            Max tiptoed back to the living room.  

 

* * *

 

            “I’m so glad you stayed,” David told Max that afternoon.

            “Are you kidding?” Max scoffed. “I’m not going out in that piss.”

            The rain, if anything, had gotten worse. David cooked eggs, claiming they were the only food he had enough of to share. The “#1 Counselor” mug steamed cheerily in front of Max. David made surprisingly good coffee for someone who only owned one mug.

            “How’s camp, anyway?” Max asked. David tensed.

            “Ah... Max.” David smiled sadly. He swallowed. “Camp closed last year.”

            “Like... for good?”

            “Like for good.”

            “Oh.” Max stared at his coffee. “Shit. Sorry, man.”

            “It’s okay. I was getting too old to keep up that gig anyway.”

            “What? You’re like thirty.”

            “I mean financially. It’s hard only working two months out of the year.”

            “Guess that makes sense.” Max sipped his coffee. “I know you loved it though. Sorry.”

            “Thanks, Max.”

            “What about Gwen?” Max tried again. He sucked at small talk, but he had to try. For David’s sake.

            “How are _you_ , Max?” David dodged the question with the same forced smile he’d worn last night. He folded and unfolded his hands nervously in front of his chest.

            “Alive,” Max shot back. “You didn’t answer my question.”

            “You didn’t answer mine.”

            David exhaled, squeezing his eyes shut. He wasn’t getting out of this one.

            “Gwen died, Max.”

            “What?”

            “She died in a car crash last month.”

            Max felt dizzy. Sure, people he knew had died. But Camp Campbell had always remained a constant in a world that constantly upended itself. He could always rely on Camp Campbell to be there. He could rely on his counselors. Right?

            “-ou okay, buddy?” David’s voice was quiet and sad, lifting him from his thoughts. “Max? You zoned out there for a second.”

            “Uh. Yeah, sorry, I just...”

            “Yeah. Me too.”

            David looked immeasurably sad, as if he’d lost the most precious thing on earth. And suddenly, everything clicked. The dark bruises under his eyes; the gaunt, haunted expression. The everything-will-be-fine smile. Max set his coffee down.

            “Holy shit, David.”

            “Language, Max.”

             “You’ve been here on your own? Just... living with that?”

            “Max-“

            “Geez. And I thought being homeless was bad.” Max kept his tone light and playful. Maybe he could cheer him up. That wasn’t too dark. Was it?

            David froze.

            “Homeless?” he wheezed.

            Uh-oh.

            David had to have figured it out by now. Right? Of course he knew Max was homeless! He had to have known. You can’t just show up at someone’s house without an explanation if you have your own place. Right? Max frowned as he watched David’s heart break all over again.

            “Max, you’re _homeless_?” David’s voice was small, a few notches higher than usual.

            “David, fuck, it was a joke. Look man-“

            “Max,” David sobbed.

            He covered his face with his right hand, wrapping his left arm protectively around himself, like he could hold it together if he squeezed hard enough. He gasped painfully, shoulders hitching. He didn’t think he had any tears left.

            “Hey man, it’s chill, please don’t-“

            Max stood, unsure of whether to placate him, or hug him, or leave the room. He opened and closed his hands a few times. David faced the wall, trying to hide his tears.

            “David- fuck me, it was a joke, man. Please don’t cry-“

            “I’m s-so sorry M-Max. I’m so s-sorry. I-“

            “Shh. Hey-“

            Max made an executive decision. He smoothed a hand over David’s tense back, slowly wrapping his arms around the older man from behind. David was warm, and smelled like camp. Like home. Max inhaled, pressing his face to the back of David’s neck. He closed his eyes.

            “Hey, I’m sorry. I thought you knew,” he murmured against David’s spine.

            “Ma- _ax_ ,“

            “Shh. It’s... it’s okay, David. Just... let it out. Or whatever. Let it all go.”

            David bit into the meat of his hand, stifling a low wail. His face was raw, and his skin was hot to the touch. Max trailed gentle fingers down his arm, turning to rest his cheek at the nape of David’s neck. Even at sixteen, Max was shorter than him.

            “You spend all your time taking care of other people. Who’s gonna take care of you?” Max whispered. “It’s okay. All right? This is one fight you don’t have to win.”

            “Max.” David choked on his name, a broken record with nothing more to say.

            “Hey. Look at me.” Max let go for a brief moment, turning David toward him.

            David was a mess. His hand remained glued to his mouth, a twig in a burst dam, attempting unsuccessfully to stifle his sobs. His eyes were painfully red. Saltwater streamed freely down his face. Max pulled his counselor close to him.

            “There you go.”

            David buried his face in Max’s hair. Max winced – he hadn’t showered in days – but David didn’t seem to mind. David’s hands tightened their grip on his shirt. Max planted his feet, letting the older man lean heavily against him. He placed a hand on David’s arm, admiring the contrasting colors of their skin. He gently squeezed David’s wrist.

            “It’s okay,” Max whispered into David’s collarbone. “I’ve got you.”

            David tightened his hold.

            “Let me take care of you this time. Okay?”

            “O-okay, Max.”

            Shit.

            Max was in deep.  


	2. Chapter 2

 

* * *

 

 

            Max closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation of hot water streaming down his face. Steam curled upward from his pink, aching toes. Maybe the shower was too hot, but Max didn’t care. He hadn’t taken a hot shower – a real one – in months.

            “Fuck me,” he groaned, lathering his hair. He washed it twice, working his fingers through thick, stubborn black curls. The shampoo smelled like David. Of course it did. Max enjoyed the scent – though he’d never admit it to the man’s face.

            David.

            He sighed. What was he going to do about his wayward camp counselor? He couldn’t just leave him alone, not after what he’d seen. David needed him. Max scrubbed his skin until it was raw, rubbing all the worry into his arms. He shut off the hot water in one decisive movement, like ripping off a bandage.

            David gave him a raw smile as he entered the living room, wrapped in nothing but a towel and dripping water all over the hardwood floor. Max scowled, unable to meet his gaze.

            “Your hair is so flat,” the older man observed. His voice was raspy from crying.  

            “That’s what happens when it gets wet,” Max sighed in mock exasperation.

            In truth, he was just happy to see David smiling again – even if it was forced.

            “How was your shower?” David asked, cordially enough.

            “Hot.”

            “I’m glad.”

            David’s gaze remained worryingly distant. Red hair framed his face in lackluster clumps. Even his freckles seemed dull. Max yanked his own shirt – now dry – over his head, and sat beside his friend on the couch without bothering to pull on pants. He kept the towel wrapped around his waist.

            “How’re you feeling?” The words tasted foreign on Max’s tongue, fueled by emotions he wasn’t accustomed to experiencing.

            “Like I’ve been run over by a truck a few times,” David answered honestly. He barked a laugh. “Like when Quartermaster used to run me over with the camp bus.”

            Max remembered that bus. He remembered the time _he_ had run over David, albeit unintentionally. David had sported a limp for the rest of the week. The guilt snapped back, more insistent than before.

            “Sorry,” he whispered.

            “It’s okay, Max. It’s a joke.”

            Max stared at the wall.

            “How come our jokes end with me being homeless or you getting hit by a bus?”

            “Who knows,” David sighed. “Maybe we’re broken.”

            “You don’t deserve to be broken.”

            “Neither do you.”

            “Listen to you. Like you’re not Mother fucking Theresa reincarnate.”

            “I’m not _that_ good.” David chuckled. Max cracked a smile.

            “I think she might be better than you,” he hummed. The remains of an old camp tune David used to sing flooded his memory. He sang, “I know she might be better than you.”

            “Oh, Max,” David laughed fondly. “I missed you.”

            “I... missed you too.” For good measure, he added, “Asshole.”

            Something strange bubbled inside Max’s chest. David was honest and vulnerable. He trusted Max completely. Was Max really heartless enough to take advantage of this man? To squat in his home, eat his food, sleep on his couch without repaying him?

            He cleared his throat.

            “So, uh,” Max started. “Have you been, y’know. Seeing someone?”

            “Not since Bonquisha.” David shook his head.

            David was single. That was interesting. Max filed that away for later.

            “Not like that, you dork. Like a therapist.”

            “Oh!” David backtracked, blushing. “No.”

            “Why not?”

            “I don’t like therapists.”

            “What? You practically _are_ one.”

            “I just don’t like them,” he affirmed. His expression was borderline dark. Max’s eyebrows raised. He was being given access to a whole new side of David tonight, one he never thought he’d get to see.

            “Okay,” Max acquiesced.

            “Can we talk about something else?”

            “Sure,” Max agreed. “You pick.”

            David thought for a moment.

            “Why did you come to me for help?”

            Now _there_ was a loaded question. Max inhaled, biting back a reflexive insult.

            “Who says I need help?”

            “You came to me for something.”

They were straying into dangerous territory. Max had to bite this one off at the head.

            “You’re a trusted authority figure from my childhood who, despite having no real parenting experience, somehow manages to care more about me than my birth family. Next.”

            “Aw, Max, that was sweet.”

            “Gross. Next.”

            “It’s sweet, but not a real answer.”

            “God, David-“

            “I’m happy to let you stay here as long as you need, but I need honesty, bud. No sarcasm.”

            Max rolled his eyes. David didn’t budge an inch, levelly meeting his eyes. Max groaned.

            “Seriously?”

            “Seriously. My house, my rules.”

            “Fuck.” Max whistled, impressed. “When did you grow a pair?”

            “I mean it, Max.”

            “Sure you do.”

            “Max.”

            David’s eyes were still raw and red. His mouth was drawn in a tight line. Max was afraid to push it any further, but he had to toe the line – he had to know just how far David was willing to let him go. David had to snap eventually. Right?

            Max needed to know how far he could walk all over his camp counselor.

            “Fuck it.” Max slicked his wet hair back with one hand, slipping his ponytail off his wrist. He felt tired, suddenly. His arm fell heavily to his side. “I’m gonna go put on some pants.”

            “Okay, Max.”

            Almost as an afterthought, he glanced back at David, still lost on the couch. Not smiling, not laughing, just... sitting there, chin in hand as he stared into the middle distance. An uncomfortably warm feeling curled around the teen’s stomach.

            “David?”

            “Yes?”

            “...thanks.”

            David flashed him a sad smile.

            “Of course, Max.”

 

* * *

 

            “Made you lunch,” Max declared, unceremoniously plopping a bowl of macaroni and cheese onto the coffee table.

            David hadn’t moved from the couch in hours. He wasn’t even watching TV. He just sat there, knees to chest, glumly studying the grey window as sheets of rain continued to pour off the roof. Max was worried.

            “Hm?” David raised his head, blinking slowly. He looked even more tired than he had yesterday, exhausted from crying. Max wondered if he even realized how long he’d been in the kitchen. “You made this for me?”

            “Eat up, asshole,” Max confirmed.

            “Thank you,” David said, lifting the bowl. He gamely stuffed a bite of pasta into his mouth, forcing a swallow. He set the bowl back down, still mostly full.

            “Not hungry?” Max asked gently.

            “Oh, it’s really good! You did a great job, Max. I just...”

            “It’s okay. I get it.”

            “Thanks,” David murmured. He curled back up, wrapping the Camp Campbell blanket around himself. He patted the seat next to him. “Sit with me?”

            Max sat.

            “You cold?”

            “A little.”

            Unsure of himself, Max scooted closer to the older man until their hips touched. Even through the thick fabric of the blanket, Max could feel the warmth of David’s body. Something fluttered in his chest. He hesitated.

            “Is this all right?” he asked.

            David nodded, resting his head on Max’s shoulder. Max cleared his throat.

            “It’s past noon. Don’t you have work or something?”

            “No,” David hummed.

            “Do you have a job?” Max prodded.

            “No, Max,” David sighed, rubbing his eyes. Max’s features softened.

            “Have you been looking for one?”

            “Max, would you like to play a board game?”

            “What- no, moron. Stop deflecting.”

            “We could watch a movie, if you like?”

            “David, you have to _do_ something. You can’t just be a vegetable.”

            “Max!” David snapped in frustration.

            Was this it? Had he finally managed to get a rise out of him?

            “I mean it,” Max poked. “What fucking good is sitting here gonna do? Mourning is useless and we’re all going to die someday. Get up and fucking live, asshole.”

            Max held his breath.

            “Okay,” David agreed after a short pause, inhaling through his nose.

            That was too easy. Max deflated. He winced sympathetically as David stood, knees popping in tandem. Max immediately missed his warmth, and wished he hadn’t asked him to stand.

            “Old man,” Max said gently.

            “Everything hurts,” David whispered, shaking his head.

            Max raised an eyebrow. David never complained. He must be feeling pretty terrible to say something like that.

            “Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to-“

            “Come on, Max,” David interrupted, flashing a small, fake smile. Shaking it off. “Sorry I’ve been a bad host. You must be bored out of your mind. Let’s do something together.”

            “David, sit back down. I didn’t mean to-“

            “No! You’re absolutely right. We should do some fun activities! It’s not every day I get to see you, after all.”

            “I swear to god, if you ever use the phrase _‘fun activities’_ again-“

            “Join me?” David offered his hand.

            Max groaned, but allowed the older man to pull him up.

            “Max, have you ever played backgammon?”

            “Fuck.”


	3. Chapter 3

 

* * *

 

            The rain turned to sleet, and the sleet turned to snow.

            Max grew restless. There was no question of going back outside in that weather. David gave up on backgammon after a few failed teaching attempts, and retreated to the couch where he resumed gazing sadly out the window. Something - Max or the weather - had sapped his energy entirely, rendering him useless for the rest of the afternoon. It was pathetic, like watching a dog wait for its owner to return from work. Except, David wasn’t a dog. And Gwen wasn’t his owner.

            She would never come back.

            Max cleaned the kitchen to distract himself. It was the least he could do. He couldn’t repay David for letting him stay in any other way. So he scrubbed the stove and the cabinets and the floors. He washed every dish. He swept, and reorganized, and mopped until every surface caught the light. He replaced the garbage bag, and put away the clean dishes.

            And when he finished, David was _still_ on the couch.

            “Ugh, David!” he growled.

            “Hm?” The redhead glanced at him. “Oh – sorry, Max. Are you hungry? Do you need something?”

            “How long are you gonna let me stay here?” Straight to the point. Plain and simple.

            “Oh...” David blinked. “I guess I hadn’t thought about it. A couple days? I don’t know?”

            Max kicked the floor, grumbling to hide his disappointment.

            _A couple days._

            “I cleaned your kitchen.”

            “You didn’t have to do that,” David whispered breathily. He stood slowly, stretching his impossibly long limbs. Max tried not to stare. Even exhausted, David was beautiful.

            “Got bored,” Max grumped.

            “Max...” David padded across the living room. He walked past the teen, peeking through the doorway. As promised, the kitchen gleamed. The room smelled like citrus cleaning agents, artificially fresh. Even the spice rack had been straightened. “Oh...”

            David sniffed. He wiped his nose on the back his sleeve, eyes reddening.

            “Jesus Christ,” Max groaned, tilting his head back. “I didn’t even _do_ anything. Why are you crying this tim-“

            “Oh, Max! It looks amazing.”

            David’s lanky arms snaked around Max’s skinny torso. This time, the embrace felt more natural. Max stiffened, then relaxed as he grew used to the sensation. Even though David’s bony ribs poked him in the chest... he kind of liked it. If this was the response he got from cleaning David’s kitchen, imagine what he could get the man to do if he cleaned his whole house! He shivered, face heating up.

            “Max, you really didn’t have to...” David mumbled, sniffling. “If this is your way of asking to stay, the answer is yes. Of course yes. You didn’t need to go to all this trouble-“

            “What? Your kitchen was fucking jacked up, man. Dishes everywhere. It’s just... common courtesy,” Max retorted, finger-quoting David’s earlier phrase back to him. He stepped back, awkwardly rubbing one arm. He couldn’t admit to himself just how much he yearned for their embrace to continue. It was too dangerous. David would kick him out eventually. Every relationship had a time stamp. “I just wanted to... y’know... say thanks.”

            David regarded him with kind, glittering eyes.

            “You’re welcome, Max.”

            “Go blow your nose, old man.”

            David barked a laugh. The sound was rusty, sudden and unexpected, and David brought a hand to his throat like he couldn’t believe the laugh had come from his own mouth. His smile was timid but hopeful, like the sun peeking out from behind a cloud. Max smirked.

            “I missed you, Max,” David said softly.

            They were close, very close, within the confines of the kitchen doorframe. Max could smell his scent, the same familiar musky pine as before. He could feel the heat radiating from the other man’s body. It would be _so easy_ to kiss him. If Max wanted to, he could reach forward and pull the two of them together.

            “Yeah, uh... you too.”

            _Not while he’s grieving, you insensitive dickwad!_

            Max blushed fiercely, berating himself. Like David, Max had freckles – but they were subtle, nearly the same color as his natural skin tone. When he blushed, his freckles stood out like a dusting of cinnamon across his cheeks. He hastily turned his face.

            “Max?” David asked, tilting his head curiously. “Are... you okay?”

            “I’m fine,” Max growled. He stomped out of the kitchen, flopping face-first onto the couch. It was still warm, and the cushions smelled like David, too. The house was so _homey._ It drove him crazy.

            _You idiot!_ His thoughts crashed loudly against the sides of his brain in screaming metallic waves. He sincerely hoped David wasn’t smart enough to put two and two together. David wasn’t like the other people Max tried to take advantage of. David had a heart. David _cared._ If he knew about Max’s crush...

            “Max?” David tried, crossing the room. His voice was laced with concern. The floor creaked as he knelt beside the sofa.

            Great. Now he was worried about Max.

            “I’m _fine,_ moron. Just tired,” Max lied.

            “Oh... okay,” David said, sounding lost. “Um... do you want a blanket?”

            “Whatever,” Max muttered into the worn fabric.

            David’s footsteps padded away, and Max breathed deep. He pretended to be asleep when the older man returned a few minutes later. He kept his face buried in the sofa cushion so David couldn’t see his eyes.

            “Guess you really tired yourself out, huh?” David whispered.

            Max felt a warm weight spread across his shoulders. The blanket. He almost jumped when he felt David’s long fingers comb through his thick hair and pull – the fuck was he doing? – but relaxed when he felt his ponytail loosen. He was just untying his hair. Not weird at all. Right? Max continued to regulate his breathing. With the tension off his scalp, Max’s body melted into the sofa. David’s hand brushed through his hair a few more times, and it took everything Max had not to groan in pleasure. How could that possibly feel so _good?_  

            “Sleep tight, Max,” David breathed.

            Something warm – was it a hand? no, it was the wrong shape – pressed against Max’s scalp for a long few seconds. He felt hot air brush his forehead.

            _What?_

            Did David just kiss his head?

            The floorboards creaked as David crossed the living room, tiptoeing back down the hall to his bedroom. Max waited for the door to close, but didn’t hear the telltale click. He pulled the green Camp Campbell blanket tight around his shoulders.

            David trusted him enough to sleep with the door open? David _kissed_ him?

            What the fuck just happened?

  

* * *

 

            “Goooood morning, Max!” David revved up the word _good_ like a motorcycle engine, plateaued on _morning_ and came to rest delicately upon _Max_. Max could practically hear him dancing in place, doing his familiar happy-morning jig. He sounded nothing like he had yesterday, forcing old, optimistic mannerisms back into place like flicking on a lightswitch.  

            “Why,” Max whined reflexively, not quite a question. He curled up tight in David’s green blanket and rolled over, swimming in sleep. He’d never been a morning person, and he wasn’t about to begin now.

            “It’s time to wake up, sleepyhead! I thought about what you said yesterday – and you’re completely right! It’s time to get moving!”

            Someone was certainly in a better mood. Max grabbed his words from the air, clicking them into place like puzzle pieces.

_It’s time. Wake up. Move._

            “Moving? What...”

            It was daylight. A few birds chattered noisily on the front lawn. Max blinked myopically against the harsh sunlight as David opened the living room blinds – and his heart stuttered in fear. The sun was out.

_It’s time. Move._

            The snow had stopped.

            “The snow stopped!” David sang cheerfully, as if confirming his thought. “Aren’t you excited to go outside?”

            Max sat up, feeling hollow. Panic gripped him. If the snow had stopped, David could finally kick him out without remorse or guilt. Max would be back to square one. He’d be back on the streets, and then what? Freeze to death? He couldn’t survive another winter in a hoodie.

            “No,” Max answered between shallow breaths, trying to keep his voice level.

            “Max?” David asked, stopping in his tracks at Max’s shaky tone. “What’s wrong?”

            “Nothing!” Max growled. He ran his hand over the worn, scratchy fabric of the sofa. It was the nicest bed he’d had in months. He would miss these cushions. He drew in a few deep breaths, leveling himself against reality in the daylight. Time to face facts – he had to leave eventually. “Ugh, fuck. Okay. Can I at least take another shower before I go?”

            “Of course you can shower, Max,” David said softly. Understanding dawned. He looked hurt. “Did... did you think I was kicking you out?”

            “The snow stopped,” Max spat, as if stating a law of nature. “Don’t worry, I’ll clean up before I go.”  

            “Max!”

            Max suddenly found his face violently pressed against David’s collarbone. The older man knelt awkwardly in front of the sofa, hands gripping the back of Max’s head. His nose crunched painfully against David’s bony shoulder. He couldn’t move. The redhead inhaled shakily.

            “David, what-“

            “Max, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make you think- obviously you’re still welcome- I’m not kicking- please stay! Please stay, Max-“

            “You’re crushing my nose.”

            “Oh my gosh, I’m sorry!” David pulled back abruptly, face red. “Are you okay?”

            “Yeah, I’m... I’m fine.” Max glanced sheepishly up at the taller man, rubbing his nose as if to prove a point. His eyes softened. “You’re... really okay with me staying?”

            “Of course!” David gushed. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Of course I am. I just thought... with the nicer weather, we could go out and maybe... buy you a real bed?”

            The words didn’t compute. Max stared blankly at David, trying to gauge whether he was telling the truth. Buy him a bed? But that would mean...  

            “You’re kidding. Right?”

            “I just thought, since you didn’t have anywhere else to go... you could live with me! I’m just sorry I wasn’t more clear yesterday. I wasn’t feeling my best-“

            “You want me to live here?” Max’s voice sounded small and foreign to his own ears. His chest constricted painfully against his will. It became harder to breathe. “For real?”

            “Of course I do, Max,” David murmured. Then he caught himself. Embarrassed, his face deepened in shade to a dark red, nearly matching his hair. He raised his hands. “If that’s okay! I don’t want to assume-“

            “Seriously?”

            “Seriously.”

            Max’s eyes burned, threatening to overflow with saltwater. He rubbed them furiously with the heels of his hands, blocking out the harsh sunlight. His throat constricted painfully. He remembered, belatedly, that this was how it felt to cry.

            It was way too early for this bullshit.

            “This better n-not be some sick f-fucking joke, David...”

            “Hey... language. And it’s not. I just need your consent.”

            Max felt two warm, large hands cup either side of his face. He blinked to force his eyes open. The tears were coming whether he liked it or not. Might as well face the world on his own terms. He hiccupped back a sob, squaring his jaw.

            As always, David's face was honest and kind. He gazed down at Max with a small smile, blinking slowly and using the pads of his thumbs to wipe away the boy’s tears. Max shook his head. It was too good to be real.

            “Fuck me,” Max whispered. He swallowed. David was intoxicatingly close again – they would really have to work on the whole _personal space_ thing.

            He shook his head.

            “I can’t.”

            “What?” David cocked his head. “Why not?”

            “You _know_ I’m n-not a good person.”

            “Hey, hey... you are a good person.”

            “I’m just g-gonna hurt you, D-David.”

            “Don’t say that-“

            “And I don’t w-want to hurt you.”

            “You won’t hurt me, Max-“

            “Because I _love_ you.”

            “I...” David blinked stupidly. “What?”

            Max inhaled. No going back from a statement like that. It was now or never. He stood from his seat on the couch, reached past David, grabbed a clump of red hair and pulled him clumsily forward. Max hungrily pressed his mouth squarely against the camp counselor’s. He hiccupped with tears. David’s surprised breath wisped across his upper lip.

            David froze. Max hadn’t expected him to react, not really. He just wanted to prove a point – both to David and himself – that he hadn’t earned this kindness. David was too good, a white angel in a world of devils. He didn’t deserve this. If Max could just demonstrate what a shitty person he was, maybe David could let him go and they could live their own separate, shitty lives in peace. But then – David moved.

            _David kissed him back._

            He opened his mouth delicately. Not a lot – just enough to demonstrate to Max that he wasn’t pulling away, he wasn’t _going_ to pull away – but it was enough. He captured the boy’s lower lip between his own, sucked gently for a fraction of a second, and pulled back. Max whimpered. The pit of his stomach fell through the floor.

            “Max,” David whispered.

            “Fuck,” Max sobbed. He burrowed his face into David’s neck, smelling pine and cursing himself. How _stupid!_

            “Max, Max,” David repeated his name like a mantra. “Max. Shh.”

            David smoothed the teen’s untamed curls, trailing delicate fingernails down his spine. Max shivered at the sensation, feeling goosebumps prickle along his arms. David was so goddamn gentle.

            “I’m sorry,” Max keened against David’s skin. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t – that wasn’t me.”

            “Shh. It’s okay. Hey. Look at me,” David instructed, placing his hands on Max’s shoulders. “Look at my eyes.”

            Max looked.

            “How old are you now, Max?”

            “S-shit.”

            “I have to know.”  

            “Nineteen.”

            “Max,” David warned. “Are you lying?”

            “Fucking fine! I’m s-sixteen. Just... fuck.”

            “You’re sixteen.”

            “Yeah, but I pass for nineteen.”

            David pinched the bridge of his nose. He sat back on his heels.

            “Damn it, Max,” he breathed. He looked pained.

            “See? You can’t let me live with you because-“

            “You’re still a kid,” David finished in a breathy whisper.

            “I was gonna say b-because I’m a shithead, but sure, that too. And I-I meant what I said.” Max raised his head, brazenly meeting his eyes.  “I still mean it. I l-love you.”

            “Max,” David groaned, looking at the floor. His shoulders tensed.

            “So kick me out,” Max commanded.

            “How long have you... felt this way?” David asked, ignoring him.

            “Since I was ten. Since we met.” Max glared at him. “I’ve always been a sick fuck, okay? I will fucking break you. I will fucking _ruin_ you. You don’t deserve this, not after camp closed. Not after Gwen. Come on. Kick me out. Please.”

            David took a long minute to breathe. He slowly clenched and unclenched his hands, one after the other like a flashing railroad signal. Do not cross. Max awaited his judgment.

            “Max...”

            “Do it. I won’t be mad.”

            David shook his head slowly. Unbelievably, he brought one hand to Max’s face, then the other. His fingers were hot against Max’s skin, and Max felt sure he could feel his pulse coursing through his temples. He didn’t understand. Why was David touching him? Why was he so gentle?

            David took a cautious step forward.

            “Maybe I’m a sick fuck too.”

            When their lips met a second time, Max melted.


	4. Chapter 4

c/w - pedophilia, gags. this one starts to get real.

 

* * *

 

 

            David felt a warm hand caress his shoulder. A second hand circled his chest from behind, offering a steaming mug of tea – #1 Counselor – which he accepted gratefully with both hands. He closed his eyes against the harsh light of the computer screen and leaned his head back into Max’s chest. The plastic back of the chair creaked in protest.

            “Thank you, Max,” he cooed.

            “It’s lavender chamomile.” Max kissed the top of his head, smoothing soft red hair under his palm. “Heard it was relaxing, or some shit.”

            Max’s long fingers were delicate and precise. His nails were clean, and carefully clipped short. He squeezed the joint between David’s neck and shoulder, not painful, but hard enough to be firm. David put his tea down. He exhaled.

            “I’ve been trying to figure this out for hours,” David sighed, rubbing his tired eyes. “Government websites aren’t very clear about protocol for taking in someone who’s... who’s homeless.”

            “I know.” Max squeezed his trapezius for a long second. “You’re tense as hell.”

            “I just want this to work.”

            “I know.”

            “You’re sure this is what you want? Living here?” David asked for the hundredth time, tilting his head all the way back to look up at Max. For a fleeting moment, Max saw fear. “With me?”

            Max’s mint green eyes were inscrutable. He crooked his neck, meeting David’s upside-down gaze as he leaned forward to give a short peck on his mouth. David’s lips were sensitive after the attention they’d received from Max that morning, and he couldn’t suppress a groan.

            “Is it what  _you_ want?”

            Max’s bare feet shuffled against the bare wood floor. The green Camp Campbell blanket flowed from his shoulders like a cape, brushing his outer ankles. He wore David’s old blue shirt, drawing the soft blanket around himself for warmth. David reached up, lightly capturing the hands rubbing his shoulders with his fingertips.

            “I want what’s best for you, Max.”

            “I want _you_ , David.”

            David’s face heated. It was amazing how easily Max could break him down to nothing, reduce him to a ball of lusty embarrassment in just a few words. Even after six years apart, he still knew how to press all the counselor’s buttons. David stood, red-faced, and took a few steps forward. Max gripped his arm territorially.

            “Max-“

            “Hush.”

            Being a few inches shorter, Max had to stand on his toes to kiss David. It wasn’t bad – but it certainly was humbling. Not to mention unsustainable. His slender ankles began to shake after a few minutes of supporting his full weight, and he growled against David’s lips. Stupid height difference.

            “Couch,” he commanded.

            “Mhm,” David agreed.

            They stumbled clumsily over one another, maintaining contact as they crossed the floor in a bizarre one-mouthed, three-legged race. The living room stretched for miles.

            “You’re gorgeous,” David breathed, crashing backward onto the cushions. Max sat on his lap, straddling his thighs in one easy move. David’s hands clumsily fingered the hem of his shirt, resting atop his waist. His cheeks flushed a deep red, highlighting constellations of freckles. Caucasian glow, Max thought idly. Gorgeous? This was too easy.

            “You look like hell,” Max shot back. He put some bite into his next kiss, worrying David’s lower lip from side to side between his teeth. David groaned with desperation, and Max took the opportunity to thread a hand into his auburn hair. He forced his tongue between David’s lips, forcefully pulling a fistful of red strands.

            “Hnng,” David said, mouth full. “Nnmax.”

            “Fuck,” Max breathed. “David?”

            “Yes, Max?” David asked, chest heaving.

            Max leaned back. A silvery strand of spittle connected them like a spider’s web. Neither bothered to brush it away. He pressed their foreheads together. Max studied David’s emerald irises for a long time, trying to discern a motive. David’s hands scrabbled for purchase along his spine as he impatiently for Max to continue. This was _far_ too easy. Something about this was wrong. A quiet but insistent voice in his head cautioned him to stop. Max blinked a few times in an attempt to clear his mind. David was being too forward. The real David was too cautious, too gentle. The real David would never prey on his campers like this. Even if Max _was_ the instigator, David would never stoop to playing his game.

            Would he?  

            This was wrong. Really wrong. Max sighed, pulling away.

            “David, there’s literally no way you’re okay with this,” Max groaned. It wasn’t a question. He sat back on David’s knees.

            “Max.” David gave a needy whine, trying to pull Max closer. “Please.”

            “Fuck man, you’re not like this.”

            “But-“

            “You’re gonna come to your senses. You’re gonna see me for what I am, and you’re gonna kick me out,” Max droned, monotone. The words came easily, like they’d been rehearsed. He stood, pants tight. He shifted his weight to the other foot. “Look, I... I can’t do this to you.”

            “Max,” David pleaded. He searched for Max’s hands.

            Max batted him away.

            “Do you even have money for this?! Literally all that’s in your fridge right now is eggs and expired milk! You can’t afford to take me in!” Max ran a hand through his disheveled hair. He began to pace the length of the living room.

            “Max, we’ll work it out! Please-“

            “No! I can’t... I can’t take advantage of you like this.”

            “Max, I _want_ this. You aren’t taking advantage of me. I _want_ you, too.”

            “Do you, David?” Max’s eyes flashed something dangerous. He wasn’t sure where this outburst was coming from, but he was too late to stop it. “Do you want me? Or do you want the _idea_ of me? Did I come at a convenient time, to save you from your grieving and your, your dark, unknowable depression? Am I here to pull you from your fantastic spiraling black void?”

            “Max!” David winced, looking hurt.

            Max kicked himself. Wasn’t David right where he wanted him, ripe for the plucking? Why was he sabotaging himself? Where was this outburst even coming from? He plunged deeper, careening out of control, unable to stop digging his pit.

            “Isn’t it _pathetic?”_ Max bit back an unexpected sob. He clasped both hands over his mouth, shaking his head no. He wouldn’t cry again. Self-hatred spilled from his lips like vomit. He screamed, “Poor, homeless Max! White angel f-fucking Max, here to save the f-fucking day! Gwen’s dead and camp’s closed, but here’s a fucking opportunity! Maybe Max reminds you of camp, huh? Maybe h-he’s just the sort of distraction you need. You don’t love me! God. I don’t know w-what you’re trying to get out of this, I have literally fucking nothing to offer. Why don’t you just snap the _fuck_ out of it?”

            David helplessly watched the teen pinball from one side of the room to the other, ripping at long black hair with both hands. His mouth opened and closed a few times, unsure of how to respond. Eventually, he stood. He placed a hand on Max’s chest.

            “Max. Stop.”

            “You’re gonna get s-sick of me! Just... just make me go already! Kick me out! You don’t deserve this!”

            “Shh,” David soothed, smoothing Max’s thick hair. His scalp was warm under his fingertips. David kissed his forehead. “I will never get sick of you.”

            “I haven’t seen you in six fucking _years!_ And now I’m b-back for one day and you’re all smitten. Am I a fucking distraction? Huh? Do you like it when I k-kiss you? Am I _distracting_ enough to take away your pain?”

            “Max... please don’t, Max.”

            “I don’t d-deserve your kindness,” Max spat hollowly.

            David wrapped his arms tightly around Max’s skinny frame. He squeezed hard, holding on even as he felt ribs creak. When he inhaled, he smelled his own brand of shampoo, his own brand of laundry detergent, and something else, something exotic. When he exhaled, Max sobbed into his chest. He felt the teen’s hot breath against his sternum, full of passion and fear and anger. He fell in love. Just like he fell in love every time Max opened up to him, he fell in love the instant Max’s tears permeated the cotton fabric of his shirt.

            “I love you, Max,” David stated, quietly, simply. He buried his nose in Max’s hair.

            “Y-you can’t.“

            “I love you,” David repeated.

            “But-“

            “I love you.”

            “It’s n-not fucking _healthy,_ Davi-“

            “I love you.”

            “Fuck,” Max whimpered.

            “I love you.” David kissed the top of his head. “I love you. I love you.”

            “I w-was gonna take advantage o-of you. And use you f-for sex. And a free place to stay.” Max clung tightly to David’s shirt.

            “I love you.” David lifted Max’s chin in his hand. He placed a gentle kiss on Max’s lower lip, tasting salt. The pads of his thumbs were soft against Max’s cheeks. Something foreign lurked in his gaze, something Max had never seen before.

            “Literally I w-was just gonna use you,” Max reiterated quietly. How could he not understand? Max would use David up like a box of tissues. He’d throw him away, wouldn’t even bother to recycle. And with David in such a state, grieving over camp and Gwen and who knows what else, Max would never be able to forgive himself.

            David was missing the point. As usual.

            “Are you using me now?” David met his eyes with a serious look. He studied Max for the briefest of moments before planting another kiss on his cheek, leaving a spot of cool moisture. “I don’t think you are.”

            “N-no.” Max shook his head furiously.

            “Did you mean it when you said you loved me?”

            Max nodded. He wiped his nose on the back of his wrist, unable to hold David’s gaze.

            “Then I love you, Max.”

            Max was not attractive when he cried. He made awful noises, deep guttural sobs that made him double over with the effort of supporting his own weight. Clear snot trickled from his nose, and his mouth wouldn’t close completely. He sucked in oxygen like a blocked vacuum cleaner. David caught him. He kissed his cheeks, capturing hot tears with the tip of his tongue. He kissed his eyelids.

            “I-I’m too m-much trouble,” Max rasped. “I’ll just m-m-m, cause trouble for y-you.”

            “I love you,” David affirmed defiantly. He wouldn’t take no for an answer.

            “ _Why.”_

            “Well,” David pondered, rocking back on his heels. Max rocked with him. They kept a steady tempo, back and forth, back and forth. He was silent for a long time, to the point where Max thought he wasn’t going to get an answer. Traffic slowly passed outside. Headlights rose and fell across the windowpanes, accenting David’s gaunt cheekbones. He inhaled a few times, abortive attempts at putting thought to word. Max remained silent, waiting.

            Finally, David admitted, “I guess I’ve loved you for... for a while. Hm. A really long time.”

            “H-how long.” Max gripped his shirt. He sniffed.

            “Oh...” David sucked in a breath. He hid his face in Max’s neck, obviously struggling. “Max, I’ve loved you since you first came to camp. Since I first got to know you.”

            Since camp? But that would mean...

            “David, I w-was  _ten._ ”

            “I know.”

            He stopped rocking, but only for half a second. Max felt David swallow nervously, felt his adam’s apple bob against his collarbone. Since camp. Alarm bells roared in Max’s head. Pedophile alert. He leaned backward to examine David’s haunted, green eyes.

            “David...”

            “You’re just... you were always so _smart,_ Max! And you’re funny, and kind, even if you show it in a different way. And even if you _were_ young... even if you  _are_ young... just a kid, I just thought... I just always thought...” David trailed off. He scooted backward guiltily. Max shivered at the loss of heat. David cradled his face in both hands. “Forgive me. Oh, god, I’m a monster. I’m... I’m sorry, Max.”

            “David.”

            “I shouldn’t have said anything,” David rasped. He hit the ground hard, bare knees scraping the carpet. Max winced sympathetically at the rugburn. He knelt to meet him, furiously scraping tears away with the heels of his hands.

            “You’re serious?” Max whispered.

            “You know I’ve never... I would never act on these... those feelings, Max.”

            “You’re literally making out w-with a sixteen year old.”

            Max had found him out, like he always managed to. David’s palms suctioned to the carpet, anchoring him to the floor as he doubled over. His shoulders began to shake. His elbows locked, and his face paled.

            “Max, you can’t... you can’t tell anyone about this,” he said to the floor, terrified.

            “Like they’d believe the homeless Indian kid over the white man w-with his fancy house.” Max sniffed. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep y-your dirty little secret.”

            “ _Max._ ”

            “Jesus fuck, I don’t even know w-why you’re worried.” Max knelt in front of the former counselor, lifting his chin with a forefinger. “You liked me since I was ten?”

            David swallowed. He nodded.

            “That’s... kind of hot,” Max muttered.

            David exhaled through his nose. He said, “Wait, reall-“

            Max kissed him, hard. His shoulders shook with the involuntary hiccups that follow a hard cry like rainbows after a storm. His lungs sucked in air against his will, and everything smelled like David, David. David melted into his lips.

            Max gripped his hair and yanked him up to a more reasonable position. He forced his tongue into his mouth, exploring the tips of David’s teeth. He didn’t know if David was into rough play, but he wasn’t in the mood to ask. He probably deserved it. Anyway, David wasn’t complaining.  

            “I want to fuck you,” Max growled.

            David whimpered. His skin was malleable under Max’s fingertips, like clay. Max squeezed his biceps, pulling him close as he captured his lower lip between his teeth, digging his fingernails into David’s arms. Despite his height, David was weak. Like a fucking twig. He tensed under Max’s rough grip, unable to pull away. _Probably why he likes kids,_ Max thought _._ The idea came to Max unbidden, without warning. _He’s too small to take a real man._

            “Rephrase,” Max whispered against his cheek. “I’m _going_ to fuck you.”

            David gasped for breath as Max dominated his mouth, sucking, biting. Max’s hands clamped down like iron manacles around his wrists. When the boy began to explore, working his way down his chin, down his neck, leaving a trail of sharp bites, David moaned.

            “Max,” he gasped helplessly.

            “Fucking pedophile,” Max growled, digging his nails in.

            David sucked the air through his teeth. He deserved this, deserved every scrape and bite. He was a monster, and this was his punishment. Max yanked his shirt down to expose his chest. His tongue scraped over David’s hard nipples like sandpaper, and David shuddered.

            “Max, I-“

            “Shut up!” Max yelled, surprising them both.

            “But-“

            “I said shut the _fuck_ up, David!”

            Surprisingly deftly for a person so young, Max pulled David’s shirt up over his head. David lifted his arms reflexively, moving out of the way. Before he even had a chance to think, he was shirtless. Suddenly inspired, Max wrung the cotton fabric into a long rope between his hands. He forcefully stuffed one end into David’s mouth.

            That would shut him up.

            “If you spit that out, we’re done,” Max warned.

            This was wild. Max had never tried anything like this before, and his heart pounded with sheer terror. David could stop this at any moment. If he made one wrong move, David would kick him out. No – David would never speak to him again. What was he _doing?_

            “Hnngh,” David grunted, more out of surprise than fear. The sound was muffled by fabric.

            Max watched him carefully. David raised and lowered his hands, as if trying to make a decision. He touched the end of the tee shirt delicately, confirming its presence. Then he bit down and nodded at Max. _Keep going._

            Max’s eyes hardened.

            “Good boy,” he breathed.

            David blinked, slow and trusting. He knew Max better than anyone. Max wouldn’t hurt him. And Max knew that David knew. David understood.  

            “Couch,” Max commanded, for the second time that night.

            David obeyed without a word.


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter C/W: smut, almost-smut, (probably) severe plot inconsistencies, (definite) style inconsistencies, look I just wanted to write David getting dicked down okay-_

 

* * *

 

            Max planted kisses along David’s jawbone, one-two-three-four-five, nipping his earlobe. He straddled the older man’s legs, halfway off the couch. David shuddered as Max’s wiry beard scraped his delicate skin. Without a razor, it had grown in prickly over the past few days. Max tasted salt-dried tears. As he worked back down his neck, Max sucked the freckled skin through his lips, between his teeth. He sipped the groove between David’s collarbones, just below his Adam’s apple.

            David grunted, the sound muffled by the cotton tee shirt hanging limply from his mouth, a symbolic gag. He couldn’t spit it out. He wouldn’t dare. His hands opened and closed docilely at Max’s sides.

            “You taste good,” Max declared. He inhaled deeply through his nose.

             “Hngh,” said David, squirming.

            Max suckled at the base of David’s neck, making lewd sounds with his mouth as blood vessels and sweat rose to the surface. David would have a massive hickey tomorrow. Good.

            The cotton shirt waved between their bodies like a flag. Max trailed his hands down, over the thin patch of red hair on David’s sternum, down the pink peaks of his nipples, down his creamy white stomach. David’s skin was cool and smooth. His palms rested on David’s hips, fingertips playing at the belt line of his jeans. Max hooked one finger under the denim, then another.

            “Hmnn!” David cried. He bucked his hips, forcing Max to hold him down.

            “Not yet,” Max growled.

            The living room was too hot. He sat back on David’s knees, ripped off his own shirt, tossed it carelessly to one side. Max took David’s hands and placed them on his own chest.

            “Feel,” he commanded, breathing hard.

            David obeyed, rubbing both hands along Max’s chest and stomach, through a newly-grown trail of the same thick, wiry hair as his beard. It wasn’t soft, but David didn’t expect it to be. Nothing about Max was soft. Fingernails caught a few strands of hair, and Max inhaled. He could feel David’s eyes on him, on his body, capturing every move like a video camera.

            “Down,” he grunted.

            David’s hands explored Max’s stomach, hesitating at his belly button. Max’s erection stretched forward, raising a tent in the fabric of his sweatpants. David blinked a few times, considering his next move before modestly moving his palms to Max’s outer thighs, completely bypassing his waist. It was like a game of chicken. Who would touch the other first? Max grunted.

            “For fuck’s sake, David.”

            He grabbed the back of his hand, planting David’s palm squarely atop his throbbing erection. Both men stilled. Max breathed through his nose.

            “Are... are you sure you want this, David?” Max asked a final time. Their eyes met.

            David nodded mutely, eyelids heavy. The shirt bobbed unceremoniously at his chest. The fabric at his lips was starting to get wet. A deep red glow crossed both cheeks; Max could feel the heat rolling off his skin.

            “You’re positive?”

            David nodded again.

            “Ugh,” Max grunted, bucking up into David’s hand, trying to create friction. “Fucking _move,_ moron.”

            David moved. He pawed Max’s erection like someone who had never touched one before, palm flat as he searched for purchase. Maybe he had never slept with a man before – though Max found that hard to believe. Max gripped his biceps. Maybe he just needed a little guidance.

            “Grab it,” he whispered into David’s ear.

            David’s fingers burrowed into the soft fabric of his sweatpants, curling delicately over the curved shape of Max’s penis. Max rutted into his hand, balancing his weight against David’s shoulders. Gentle as ever, David stroked with his wrist, up, down.

            “Good boy,” Max whispered shakily.

            A few beads of precum formed at the tip of Max’s penis. He inhaled sharply as David slowly smoothed the pad of his thumb over the head. Liquid soaked into the fabric of his sweatpants. David could feel it, too. He rubbed circles over the damp spot with the tip of his thumb. Max felt hyper-aware of every movement, every tiny sensation. David’s hand was the entire world.

            “Fuck,” he groaned. He pressed forward until the tip of his erection brushed David’s stomach. He whispered, “Lie down.”

            David flattened himself along the threadbare cushions, lying flat on his back. Max stood, losing contact for one aching moment until David was ready. Then he laid down on top of him, distributing his full weight evenly along David’s body. He could feel David’s own erection. The fabric between their bodies strained with added pressure. Max rolled his hips in controlled circles, pressing their groins together. David moaned with his eyes closed, a beautiful sound muffled by the cotton between his lips.

            “I want to make you come,” Max breathed, nipping David’s earlobe with his teeth. David sobbed involuntarily, drawing in breath through his nostrils. He was already so close. Max licked his neck, tracing the carotid artery with the tip of his tongue. “Do you want me to make you come?”

            David nodded too fast, like a bobblehead. The shirt quivered on his chest, making him shiver. So, so close. Max chuckled. Without hesitating, he placed both hands on the seat of David’s jeans, squeezing his ass through the denim. He trailed his fingertips up. When he reached the beltline, he circled his nails around to the front, slowly undoing David’s belt buckle. He took his time on the button, and on the zipper. Every tooth of the zipper gave a faint, distinct click as he unzipped David’s jeans. David squirmed, which only made Max slow down more, taking his time.

            Max pushed the fabric of David’s jeans down his thighs. David lifted his hips, aiding him in the process, but Max stopped at the knees. David was vulnerable like this, gagged and half-clothed, with Max’s full weight atop him. He wouldn’t be able to stand if he tried. Max had him right where he wanted him.

            “Hush,” Max commanded. He lowered himself to David’s legs, facing the older man’s erection head on. David wore briefs. Of course he did. The light green fabric was tented beautifully over the curved shape of David’s penis, and tilted to one side.

            Max kissed his stomach once, surprisingly tender.

            Then, his mouth was on David.

            David couldn’t help but moan as Max’s hot breath flowed over the fabric of his briefs. Max used his hands to straighten David’s member, keeping it under the fabric. His lips closed over the shape of the head, the length, kissing him through his briefs, drawing out the experience. The cotton absorbed moisture from his mouth, drying his tongue.

            Without anything to grab onto, David threaded his hands tightly in Max’s thick hair. He tried to hold his hips still, without much success. Max hooked two fingertips under the elastic waistband, pulling the fabric down a few inches. He kept the bottom half of David’s erection partially covered. It was like unwrapping a gift at Christmas. He wanted to savor every second. The head was pink and engorged. David was circumcised. So proper. Max chuckled darkly, taking David into his mouth once more. This time, he tasted pure skin.

            “Hmnnh!” David yelled desperately into the shirt. “Hmmaagh!”

            “So impatient,” Max murmured. He delicately licked the head along the crease, kissed each side. He gave David’s balls a gentle squeeze with one hand.

            “Hmm _aagh_!” David pleaded. He was already so close.

            Max suctioned the tip into the pocket of his cheek like candy; released it with a pop.

            “Are you trying to _talk_ to me?” he asked darkly. “After I _told_ you to be quiet?”

            With two fingers, he reached up to press the shirt a centimeter further into David’s mouth. David coughed as the fabric neared the back of his throat, tears rising to his eyes. He could feel how dry his lips were. David shook his head frantically.

            “Good,” Max breathed. “That’s more like it.”

            He returned to David’s penis, taking the length fully into his mouth. His heart raced, and it was more difficult to maintain the same level of control. Still, he tried to take his time, tried to make David feel every subtle movement.

            David grunted wordlessly, trying to stay quiet. Despite Max’s weight on his thighs and his own self-control, he instinctively bucked his hips. Max kept his lips carefully parted, trying hard not to graze David’s skin with his teeth. Either way, David didn’t seem to mind. Max risked a glance up. The older man’s eyes were half lidded, tears streaming down his red, freckled cheeks which ballooned outward from the fabric. Max thought he was beautiful.

            “Do you want to come?” Max whispered, letting the cool air flow over David’s sensitive erection.

            “Mmhmm!!” David nodded emphatically.

            “That’s too bad,” Max said with a wicked grin. He kissed the leaking tip again, short and sweet. Then he sat up, stretching his arms over his head. He feigned a yawn. “Long day, huh? Maybe we should get some rest-“

            “ _Hnn!”_ David clamped his hands on Max’s wrists.

            Max cackled.

            “David,” he laughed. “You’re mine now.”

            Delicately – almost sweetly – Max removed the tee shirt from David’s mouth. Then he stood, idly fondling his own dick through his sweatpants. David wet his lips with his tongue as he watched. He swallowed a few times, causing his adam’s apple to bob repeatedly in his throat. He breathed heavily. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse.

            “Max, please. We have to-“

            “We have to  _what,_ David?”

            “Hn! We have to... y’know...” David’s face was crimson. “...finish?”

            “Look, David,” Max said, giving his dick a squeeze. “You don’t _get_ to decide what we do. You belong to me now. Got it?”

            “I- what?”

            Max’s heart raced as he watched David trip over his own thoughts on the couch. He was a mess. His pants still hung halfway down his legs, shirt on the floor. His skin was pocked with hickeys and red patches, and his dick stood at attention, still half-wrapped in his briefs. This was _wild._

            “You’re _mine,_ David.”

            “But Max-“

            “I’ll make you come,” Max promised. He leaned forward, kissed the older man’s auburn hair. “But you have to earn it.”

            “ _Max.”_

            “Love you!” Max said brightly as he walked from the room, dick in hand. He closed the door behind him with a quiet click, taking a long second to make sure David wasn’t going to follow him. He didn’t.

            Max exhaled. His hands shook.

            What was he  _doing?_


End file.
